


Exhaustion

by spnandsadness



Series: Castiel's Human Experiences [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Divergence in Season 9, Case Fic, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel's Human Experiences, Fluff, Human Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Sleep Deprived Castiel, abuse of semi colons and dashes, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 22:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnandsadness/pseuds/spnandsadness
Summary: Castiel tries to stay up for over forty eight hours to help Sam and Dean with a case.





	Exhaustion

This could possibly be one of the most important cases they’d worked -  aside from the apocalypses, of course. The creature had already killed fifteen people, showed no signs of stopping, and most importantly: they had no idea what it was.

 

The killing pattern was so strange, they would have just declared it a serial killer a long time ago, except for the claw marks, and a tooth found in one of the corpses. Not to mention the fact that no less than eight witnesses swore it flew. Neither the marks or the tooth matched anything in the books yet, at least there weren’t that monsters that flew.

 

This was such a strange and dangerous case that Sam and Dean had even decided that if two more people were killed, then they’d call in more hunters to help. Castiel had offered, but Dean had insisted that he stay home and ‘rest up’ after his bout with the flu - despite having been declared completely healthy over a week ago.

 

So, Castiel had to stay at the bunker while his humans - his  _ friends _ , he corrected himself - were in danger. If either of them got hurt, or if Sam and Dean had to ask more hunters for help, Castiel was driving up to Missouri, no matter what Dean said.

 

For now, Castiel helped from the bunker.

 

\----------------

 

Five hours later, it was three o'clock in the morning, and there was nothing. Castiel had noticed that his head felt lighter, and he found himself blinking a lot, and unfocused.  _ Maybe Dean was right, I could be coming back down with the flu… _

 

Castiel ate some fruit, and drank a glass of water, hoping that nutrients would delay the sickness. 

 

After Castiel was done eating, he went back to the library, and pulled out another book.  _ Back to work… _

 

\----------------

 

At six, Castiel was fighting to keep his eyes closed, so he made himself a large cup of coffee, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. While the coffee made him more energetic, it didn’t make him less tired, but he powered through it.

 

\----------------

 

By seven, Castiel had started feeling clammy, and he felt hungry, but also nauseous at the same time. He had figured out what species the creature was, it was a kind of dragon, but he needed to know what breed, because, unfortunately, a blade forged in a dragon’s breath only kills one type of dragon.

 

Thankfully, the bunker’s library had four entire bookshelves devoted exclusively to the different breeds of dragons.

 

\----------------

 

At three in the afternoon, Castiel had forced himself to eat a sandwich, and drink more coffee. Dean had called to check in, and Castiel had had to tell him that he knew that it was a dragon, but that a dragon blade wouldn’t work. (“Kinda stupid, to have something called a  _ dragon _ blade, but it only works on one type of dragon. Good work, though. Call us when you have something else.”)

 

\----------------

 

At six, Castiel had made it through almost two bookshelves. No luck.

 

In addition, he drank another six cups of coffee, and decided that coffee was one of the best things he’d ever tasted.

 

\----------------

 

Sam called him this time, something about Dean’s phone being smashed, but Dean being “all right”. Of course, when Castiel asked him why Dean couldn’t talk, Sam replied that he was asleep. At eight o’clock at night.

 

Castiel, not being an idiot, told Sam that he was driving there immediately, but Sam placated him by telling Castiel that the best way to help was to research, because it’s not like he could heal Dean.

 

Castiel countered by telling Sam that if there weren’t more hunters being called to help the second Sam got off the phone, then he would just pack the books into one of the cars in the garage, and research there.

 

Castiel assumed that Sam agreed, but he couldn’t tell because he was having a massive head rush, so bad that his entire vision was a mixture of black and red for a few seconds.

 

“Sam?” Castiel said when his head rush was over.

 

“Yeah, Cas?”

 

“I think I’m getting sick again,” Castiel started. “I feel clammy, and also I feel hungry, but nauseated, and I keep getting head rushes.”

 

“When was the last time you slept?” Sam asked, and Castiel pictured him leaning forwards and bracing himself on his knees, frowning.

 

“I don’t know, I woke up at six in the morning,” Castiel started. “So, around thirty eight hours.”

 

“What?!” Sam shouted into the phone. “You said you woke up at six!”

 

“My apologies, I meant six o’clock  _ yesterday _ .”

 

“Go get some sleep, and pick up the research in the morning.”

 

After Castiel had hung up, he thought about following Sam’s orders, but remembered that the sooner he figured out what breed of dragon it was, the sooner he’d know what happened to Dean. Not to mention that the dragon could kill again. Opening the book back up, he started to read about Yellow Reapers.

 

\----------------

 

Castiel had found it. He’d identified the dragon. It’d taken three bookshelves, ten cups of coffee, and some tears, but he’d found it. Sam could kill it, and Dean could come back to the bunker, and Castiel could sleep.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Sam! I found the dragon!” Castiel might’ve been shouting, he couldn’t tell; this was the volume he’d been talking in for the last couple of hours..

 

“Cas. Why are you calling me at five in the morning?” Sam croaked.

 

“Didn’t you hear? I realized what kind of dragon it is?” Castiel replied.

 

“And why are you speaking enochian? Are you in trouble?” Oh.  _ Oh _ .

 

Now making a conscious effort speak english, Castiel tried again. “I found out what breed of dragon it is, as well as how to kill it.” Before he could explain how to kill it, Sam interrupted.

 

“You stayed up? After I explicitly  _ told _ you to go to sleep?”

 

“...Erm. That’s not of import.” Castiel replied, wincing at being caught.

 

Sam had taken the phone away from his mouth, but Castiel could still hear him. “God, it’s like running a goddamn daycare.” Sam was louder when he began talking again. “Tell me how to kill the dragon, and then go. The. Fuck. To. Sleep.”

 

Sheepishly, Castiel started telling Sam how to kill it. “You need to mix salt, liquid nitrogen, and sand together, then take a blade of pure iron, and dip the blade in the mixture every two hours, seven times. Wait at least three hours after the last time you dip the blade before stabbing the dragon through the heart. Keep the blade; it’s reusable.”

 

“Thanks. We’ll be back in two or three days, and you try to get your sleep schedule back to normal in that time.”

 

“Wait - you never told me what happened to Dean.”

 

“Idiot saw the dragon, tried to go after it, got thrown against a brick wall. He’s fine, but he sprained his ankle, and broke two ribs. He’s sleeping it off. Which is what you should be doing.”

 

“Good night Sam.”

  
“‘Night Cas.”


End file.
